Dragonborn
by crimeson-plasma
Summary: The thing Bilbo had expected the least on his trip to visit his cousins Drogo and Primula was to be captured and almost executed by Imperials. All he wanted was a peaceful life, but somehow he finds himself dragged into a quest to reclaim a kingdom by a group of dwarves and forced to upheld the duties of the dragonborn. Nothing could go worse, couldn't it? A Skyrim!AU fic.


This was originally an idea I wanted to write down as some sort of one-shot, but since it has grown far bigger than what I originally expected I've decided to cut it down into several chapters and expand it. So, here is the first one! I'll write down the rest soon. It actually started off as me exploring this particular type of writing, more exactly the type of in-depth description that I can go into, to see how I could continue 'Path of Shadows' in this sense. Not too sure about how it came out in that sense, but I'm proud of this one nonetheless. It was fun to write.

As for a brief description, this is a Skyrim!AU for the hobbit, with Bilbo being the dragonborn. I'm not exactly sure of where I'll take this fanfic, but there will definitely be Bagginshield in it, and perhaps some other side-pairings like Dwalin/Ori, Kili/Fili or Kili/Tauriel. I'm not too sure for now. For the sake of simplicity, and even though it contradicts the Elder Scrolls canon I've decided to include Hobbits and Tolkien's dwarves as races. With how it is an intrinsic part of the characters I thought it'd be too much if I changed them.

Like always, I own nothing (neither the Elder Scrolls series or Tolkien's creations). Enjoy!

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The wind blew strong that day, making a strange sad song-like sound as it rushed through all the trees, bushes and plants around me. The song came to an abrupt end as the wind crashed against the tall cliffs to a side of me, which stood tall and bare, just like most of the mountains around this area. Snow had started to settle lightly upon the ground, covering patches of grass with a pure white that was immediately broken by my boots as I advanced. Or well, would have been broken by my boots if I was walking, that is. Instead it was broken by the wheels of the cart I had found myself sitting on, which no doubt was on the way towards execution grounds of some sort. Two more carts were in front of the one I was sitting on, each apparently with six prisoners each, and then there was a another one behind with the same quantity. I had just woken up, and was as disconcerted as I could possibly be. I didn't know where I was exactly, although I did at least get a fair idea of where I was being taken to.

'To be expected of autumn in these lands', I thought. The cold, that is. Skyrim was a cold and harsh land indeed, much more so than other lands in Tamriel. Beautiful too, in its own way and only if one dared to venture into the wilds.

I hadn't committed a crime, not truly. I had just happened to be unlucky enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I had just been travelling to Skyrim from Cyrodil and come across a battle between the Stormcloaks and Imperials, during which I had been confused for a former group. As a result I had been captured and arrested. An understandable fact: How common were Hobbits in these areas anyways? Not to mention, how trustworthy were we seen by humans anyways? At the very best, not very much, usually.

I looked around. My head was pounding, and I could feel cuts being formed on my wrists due to the rope that tightly tied them together. I grimaced, feeling a mild sting spread through them, caused by the rough rope around them. I could practically feel the wind blowing through me, and I soon was missing deeply my ordinary clothes and armour, which kept me warm no matter what the weather. Besides me was a nord man, someone with auburn hair complaining that he had done nothing wrong. Besides him, however, was a dwarf with white hair who was answering him back. He looked as calm as a person could possibly get when being taken to an execution. Which, albeit, was a lot. If that was where we were being taken at all. Despite his white hair, as well as his long beard, he didn't look too old. Premature aging had surely given him that hair colour, surely. Besides me then was another human, this one surely a member of the Stormcloaks judging by the expression he was wearing and the things he was muttering in a low and hushed tone of voice.

However, the most noticeable person who was sitting on the cart was the dwarf sitting on the far end of my row. He was tall, for a dwarf anyways, and had long dark hair and a short but dark beard. Black, almost, but with a couple of whitening strands here and there. It was a strange colour to describe in an exact way. He was dressed in the same rags as we all were, in those that only prisoners that were to be executed were dressed in, but he looked surprisingly out of place in them. From what I could see he had surprisingly blue eyes, and he was wearing a completely neutral face. I would have said he was brooding on something, even. Deep in concentration, almost as if he wasn't even here. Despite this, I could tell that he was very aware of the events that were going on around him.

I looked away from the dwarf, not really able to understand what he could possibly be doing here. Judging by the fact that Dwarves were even rarer than Hobbits in these lands, it was hard to imagine what he and the white haired dwarf were doing here. Both of them looked terribly out of place, armour would have surely been more fitting for both of them. And yet, despite that, here they were both. In the same rags that I was wearing too. Had they possibly been as well at the wrong place at the wrong time? I had merely been travelling to meet my cousins Drogo and Primula, who had just recently gotten married, but I was completely unable to imagine the affairs that could possibly bring _dwarves_ here.

"I see you just woke up" the white haired dwarf, who was sitting in front of me, said with a monotone and mildly interested voice. He had clear eyes as well, and a long nose. If his beard and was less messy and better well kept he would have been a typical dwarf.

I looked at him, curious. I was bored, I could feel it within me, and perhaps talking would help me get rid of the boredom before we arrived at the execution grounds.

"We are being taken to execution grounds, aren't we?" I asked aloud, deciding to try and confirm my suspicions.

He nodded at this. "Aye, lad. We are indeed" he just said. "We are all being taken to Helgen".

I nodded, I had supposed so. It was a shame, despite the wind and the snow it was a good day, one that would have been good for travelling. I wouldn't manage to see my cousins now, however. "Who are all of these prisoners?" I asked, gesturing towards the other carts. They were all dressed in the same rags, but for so many nord humans to be together in a single space there had to be a reason.

"Stormcloaks! It is their fault that we were captured!" the man that had just been complaining a bare minute ago shouted. He looked at me with a fearful expression on him, and practically on the verge of tears. "I am innocent, I shouldn't be here! If only they hadn't decided to attack I would have managed to get away with that horse…" he muttered. He suddenly stopped and looked at me. "Hey, you are innocent too, right Halfling? Neither of us should be here at all!".

"We can't do anything about it now, lad. We can just embrace our fate as best we can and think back to our home" the white haired dwarf said, earning a look from the dark haired dwarf. The human complained about this, but the dwarf ignored him. Instead he turned again towards me. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Bilbo Baggins, at your service" I said, giving the typical courtesy despite the situation we were in. I looked the human man directly after saying this, "I would prefer if I was referred to as 'hobbit', if you may. 'Halfling' implies we hare only half as good as other beings" I said, vaguely annoyed by the term he had coined.

"Balin, at yours" the white-haired quickly replied. What seemed like a vague smile of amusement had formed on his face at my comment directed towards the human, and he looked ready to add something else, but was interrupted by the other dwarf. The human man didn't answer, and just looked away.

"This is hardly the time for introductions, Balin. We are about to be executed by humans" the dark haired dwarf suddenly spoke, with a deep and powerful voice. Mellifluous, perhaps.

"Be quiet, prisoners!" the human driving the cart suddenly shouted. I looked at him, startled. We all did. An imperial soldier, no doubt, judging by his uniform and equipment. I decided to remain quiet, there was no point in talking after all. Perhaps devoting these thoughts to my home and family wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

Silence fell upon all of us, and the cart continued advancing at the same pace. Creaks sounded here and there as it hit upon a bump in the road, advancing ever on and on. Cool air hit me, and I couldn't help but marvel at the great beauty of the area that surrounded me. Mountains standing chaotic and proud miles towards my sides, in the way only Skyrim's mountains could be. I was strangely at peace. Relaxed, even. A strange thing to feel considering what would happen soon. However, and despite the fact that I was fully aware of the execution that would happen sooner rather than later, I decided to relax and slump back into the wooden bench I had been sat on the cart I was in. It wasn't particularly comfortable, and the smell of old wood along with the feel of pieces of wood which, sticking out, were making contact with my flesh.

The other prisoners didn't seem to have very joyful expressions on their faces. The dwarf I had been speaking with before looked like he was deep in thought though, regretful perhaps. It didn't matter though. I sighed, my thoughts going back to my home town, and looked up at the sky and it's mixture of pale blue and white clouds. Several of my bangs were brushed onto my face by the wind, but I was unable to move them out of my face due to my hands being tied behind me. The sun was barely visible now, its pale gold rays falling onto my skin and giving me a vague sense of warmth despite the cold wind that flowed around me. Dressing everything in a gold-like colour reminiscent of jewelry. That's what it seemed like, at least.

Human shouts were heard, and that's when I knew that we had finally entered the town. I looked away from the sky. I was lightly dazed, eyesight vaguely unfocused, looking around myself. More specifically, at the nords that seemed to occupy the town.

'_Helgen'_ I thought, scanning the place.

I had heard about it through a couple of stories told to me by villagers, of course. It had some type of importance and significance, but I couldn't remember exactly what it had been. It did not matter though, it would change nothing about my predicament. Not that I was interested in changing it anyways, I was content as it was. I would not try to escape. Cold swear formed on by body as chills ran up and down. The sun's gold-ish light succeeded in driving away some of the cold, but not all of it. The wind was too cold and these lands too far up north for it to be eliminated completely. A strange stench made its way to my nostrils, particularly unpleasant. Its source were the rags I was dressed with, which I had been forced to change into after being captured. I didn't doubt for a single second that countless prisoners had worn them before me. Well, probably less than the ones the fellow prisoners which were being taken in the cart with me had, as we hobbits _were_ less common than dwarfs and men.

Imperial soldiers filled the dirt-covered streets, along with a few citizens, and for a moment I was able to spot the person who could only be the general. That armour quality… What was the general's name again? I wasn't able to remember exactly. Nonetheless, it didn't matter yet again. Behind me a parent told his child to go back inside, amidst protests of the latter about how he wanted to see the imperial soldiers. I chuckled at this, amused and the child's antics, having been reminded of my own behaviour during my childhood. I closed my eyes and smiled, hearing the first carts that leaded the way come to a stop.

One by one, they all came to a stop, until our own cart also stopped. Nord prisoners were being taken down from the other ones and registered on a list, and soon the same procedure started going on at ours. We all stood up and prepared to walk down. I felt dull pains all around my body. How long had I been sitting down? The rope binding my wrists together brushed against my skin, rough and cutting into it now. The rags I was dressed with were by now soaked in my cold sweat, and felt strange to touch. Mildly disgusting, I didn't want to be in them or feel them at all against my skin. The strong wind now flowed against me, and I was relieved to feel it take my bangs away from my face. I should have cut my hair short roundabout these days. Not that it mattered now, of course. Out of the corner of my eye I saw an armour-clad nord. Tall and blond, standing with obvious pride in his posture and looking down at the soldiers.

'Ulfric Stormcloak' I thought, looking at him. So _that_ was why we were taken to these execution grounds. _He_ had been captured. The amusement didn't last long, however, and I stared forwards.

We were all off the cart now, including the human that had been protesting just earlier. The white-haired dwarf was asked his name, and then lead towards the execution grounds. Balin, wasn't he?

Next off was the human who protested. Upon being told his name and origin he suddenly shouted, breaking down and deciding to attempt an escape. Predictably, he was shot down rather quickly by the archers staged all around the perimeter. The soldiers in charge of reading the list and noting down the prisoners turned around as the corpse of the man fell onto the floor. They looked back to the list, and then towards the dark-haired dwarf that had spoken earlier to the white-haired one. The one that had attracted my attention.

"Thorin Oakenshield" the male guard read. "You were warned that your actions to reclaim your supposed land would not be tolerated further. You have seeked with them this end yourself", he then added. "Proceed".

The dwarf, _Thorin_, muttered something and walked towards where the group of prisoners was quickly forming. Stopping right besides the white-haired one that had spoken to me before.

'_Blue'_ I suddenly thought.

His eyes were blue. Of a particularly bright and clear tone. I hadn't been able to distinguish the colour before because of where he had been sitting compared to me, but as he had turned that had changed. His face looked rather stern too, with a pang of regret, but it mostly seemed like he was concentrated on something. What I could not know though. Who knew what had exactly lead to him being arrested though.

"You… who are you?" one of the guards suddenly said, as the other looked back and forth from me to the list. I would have chuckled if the situation was different. I had been brought here and arrested, but apparently hadn't been registered at all.

"I am Bilbo Baggins" I just said, looking at their eyes with disinterest, despite the fact they practically doubled my height. I just wanted to get done with this matter as soon as possible.

"A hobbit… why are you so far away from the Shire, the fertile lands your kind occupies near Cyrodil? No matter." He looked at the other, his armour clanging rather quietly as he did so because of the change of position. "He's not on the list, what should we do?" he then asked the other guard, still standing besides him.

"It doesn't matter if he's not on the list. Execute him with the rest" the other replied.

The man then turned back towards me and looked at my eyes with pity. "We will make sure your remains are delivered to your home after your execution" he said.

I nodded, uncaring, and started walking towards the group of prisoners that was already congregated. Around the block of wood where our heads would be chopped off, no doubt. I was one of the last to be registered too, it seemed, and I could see some looks of interest and amusement from the other human prisoners, the Stormcloaks that had been captured.

The general, whatever his name was, was shouting at the man who was the leader of the Stormcloaks. The latter, however, had his mouth draped to stop him from saying anything at all. I didn't pay attention though, I wasn't interested in the civil war that was going on. Instead, my thoughts turned back to my home and its comforts. I hadn't been able to eat a normal hobbit diet recently and I was rather hungry. It would be time to eat roundabout now, I was sure just by looking at the sun.

A priest, who was standing fairly close to the execution block then opened her arms. "We comment all of your souls to the Divine…" she said, her loud and clear voice flooding the area. However, she was quickly interrupted by one of the Stormcloaks.

"For Talos' sake, lets get this done and over with!" the nord man shouted, as he started making his way towards the execution block.

The other Stormcloaks nodded, and some of them cursed at the Imperials, who in turn cursed back at them. I stood silent in the midst of all of this, not really caring. The sooner this was dealt with the better. The wind was still flowing the same as it did before, the snow still covered the ground, and the sun still shone with the same brightness than it had before. Everything was still the same, and it surely would be in a few hours time.

The Stormcloak, who would be the first one to be executed, was soon kneeling, neck on top of the execution block. There was some type of wooden bucket at the other side of it, right below his head. The man had his eyes closed, and was muttering something under his breath, no doubt praying. The executioner positioned himself besides him, not blocking our view, and raised his axe's blade. The nord kept muttering, and the blade fell.

The head of the nord fell onto the wooden bucket below it, and the body slumped practically immediately. Blood, warm and sticky fell onto the execution block and the dirt floor all around, soaking it and creating a strange mushy mixture. Some fell onto the snow patches that could be found here and there, bouncing back in a strangely mesmerising way. If it had been any other liquid it could have been described as beautiful, in a sort of manner. The executioner kicked the body away to make room for the next one, and the metallic scent of blood soaked the air. A roar, from some animal, suddenly filled the perimeter, but nobody seemed to give it any importance aside from asking aloud what could have caused it.

"You, the hobbit! It's your turn!" one of the guards that had been reading the list, the one that had answered the others question, shouted.

I nodded unconsciously and walked towards the execution block. All eyes were on me as I then stopped in front of it, including those of the dwarves which had been on my cart before. The block in itself, which was clearly designed for a more human use was too tall for me. However the executioner did not seem to mind this, as soon I felt the push of his foot to make me kneel on the block. The body of the nord which had been previously in my position was not under me, but still close enough to force me to move away from it. It proved to be a very uncomfortable position, with my neck barely managing to actually fit on the execution block without me sitting up.

I closed my eyes. I could feel the warm blood that had spilt on the execution block touch my skin, mainly that of my neck. My bangs fell on top of my face and covered my eyes, and some of them got stained by the blood as well, feeling therefore heavier. The metallic scent was the strongest here, and practically surrounded me in a vapour-like way, making me dizzy because of its strength. If my hands hadn't been tied behind my back I would have tried to move into a more comfortable position, but I was unable to do so.

The same roar that had sounded before sounded now again, just as the executioner lifted his blade. I ignored it, and thought back to my home as I practically felt the shimmering iron blade above neck. However, soon the imperial guards were shouting something. I opened my eyes as I heard the scared shouts of the other prisoners as well as the guards, and the blade started to fall. A loud noise of stone breaking and falling onto the floor was heard, a roar louder than the ones that had been heard before and then just confusion and what could only be fire.

The blade hadn't fallen, and I was still alive. That was the only thing I was certain of then and there. I tried to look around, but found myself completely unable to walk properly.

"Move! We won't be given a second chance!" I heard someone shout behind me.

It was then when I was pulled out of my daze and I stood up. Running in the best way I could towards the closest tower, following a few other prisoners. Blood had somehow stained even the top of the rags that I was wearing, and now they were clinging against my chest. The blood on my hair and neck hadn't moved at all and fell uncomfortably around me, however I barely noticed it. Scared screams, as well as a sudden wild warmth were now everywhere, contrasting deeply with the atmosphere feeling from before. I turned around, now within the safety of the tower, and then saw it.

'_Dragon' _I realised.

The gold of the sun had been substituted by the wild red of dragonfire, and the stench of burnt flesh and blood filled everything. I was beside a few stormcloaks, but I could not see any of the other prisoners that had been around me before.

'_I need to get out of here!'_ I immediately thought.

Ignoring the other men in the room, I immediately ran up the stairs, thinking that perhaps I could drop myself onto another area of the fortress, or at least of the outer walls. I could not go back through where I had come from anyways. I fell onto of the steps of the stairs more than once, and I cursed my luck and my tied hands. If only things had been differently… Luckily I was running up, and as such the fall wasn't big. If I had been running down, however, that would have been a different story.

I abruptly stopped, in time to see that the path up was interrupted by collapsed rubble and the dragon suddenly breaking the wall and breathing fire into the tower. The heat burnt against my skin, but I had miraculously avoided it. The dragon then moved away, and I decided to jump from the space in the wall onto a nearby house amidst the confused shouts of the imperial guards, who were trying to organise themselves.

I landed safely on the wooden floor of the now-destroyed house, but the pang of pain that suddenly shot up my leg told me that I hadn't landed as safely as I could have. However, I ignored it and quickly kept running, soon jumping onto the first floor of the house and running outside. I would deal with whatever would I had gotten on my leg later. For now I had to focus on escape from this accursed town before I was turned into a pile of ash by dragonfire.

Cold wind blew strong again as I went outside, spreading the dragonfire that was already burning, and it was then when I saw the two dwarves that had been on my cart before. The dragon wasn't too far away, apparently preparing to breathe fire again, whilst they were sitting close to a ledge that would not be reached by the dragonfire. I ran towards them, wanting to avoid the accursed creature, reaching them just in time.

"You!" the one with the dark hair shouted upon seeing me. What was his name, Thorin? The white haired one just limited himself to look at me. Neither of them had their hands bound anymore, and I could not help but wonder how they had achieved that.

"You survived the attack!" I said, honestly surprised to see them both there. I looked down at my leg, not really able to feel the pain as strongly as before. Adrenaline had kicked in, but I knew I'd feel it again as soon as it went away. I had to be quick.

"Yes we did, but we won't remain alive for long if we don't go away" the white haired one said as he scanned his surroundings.

I opened my mouth, wanting to ask how a _dragon_ of all creatures had presented itself at the city in such a time. They weren't even real, just myths, for the Divine's sake!

Thorin suddenly started running, and Baling turned briefly to look at me. "Follow us if you want to survive! We need to get out of here before the creature gets to us!" he said, soon following Thorin.

I cursed and followed them, running as best I could. It wasn't an easy task, as my bound arms threw me significantly off balance. My breath was heavy and I could feel the quick beat of my heart in my chest. Blood-induced dizziness, or rather, by its smell, still surrounded me like a mist. However, I was wide awake and perceiving everything with a strange clarity that made me unable to feel truly tired. A lucky thing, as I would probably not survive if I wasn't aware of my surroundings. The heat was everywhere, and a line of thought where I wondered just how it was possible for a dragon to appear kept repeating again and again inside my head. They were legends, nonexistent or dead long ago at the very best. However here it had appeared, but why? What could have possibly been of any significance to such a creature?

Many turns through the streets of Helgen happened quickly, during which I kept following the two dwarves. Imperial soldiers attempted to bring down the creature everywhere, each and one of them failing to do so. The general of the army shouted orders to the soldiers from somewhere, worry evident on his face. Ulfric was nowhere to be seen either, not that it mattered. None of them, either Stormcloaks or the Imperial soldiers seemed to notice us. Again a lucky thing, seeing how all of us were going to be executed. We had at first aimed for the main gate that we had gone into the town through, but they seemed to be tightly shut, with no way in or out anymore.

"Where are we going?" I asked loudly to the two dwarves who ran ahead of me. It had already been two full minutes of running, and due to the main gates having been locked I was starting to wonder how exactly we would manage to get out of this place, if at all.

The white haired one, Balin, pointed to a side, towards some kind of fortress-like building. It was entirely composed by black stones, looking grimy and slippery. Ice-like. It wasn't the tallest castle that I had seen, but it was imposing nonetheless. Perhaps so because of my current lack of any weapon and bound arms. Stormcloaks seemed to me flooding one of the many doors of it, as well as some Imperial soldiers. All of them with the same hurry and desperation in their run despite their differences.

'_Ah'_. So that was it.

"There is another way to get out of here through it. That's what it looks like" he said, confidence oozing out of every word. The other dwarf didn't say or gesture anything, and instead kept leading the small group of us.

I nodded, and just followed. Screams, blood and dizziness being the only things I could detect once we stepped into one of the entrances. All of them distracting, but not enough to make me lose track of what I was doing. After I had managed to escape of this place I would have to take a rest. A good and long rest.

I doubled over, trying to catch my breath. I was tired, and the cold air that permeated every single part of the room I was now in made my gasps stronger. My head was now seemingly pulsing even more strongly now, and I could practically feel my heart beating furiously within my neck. It was between my ragged breaths that I saw Balin coming towards me, knife in his hands and saying something. I couldn't understand completely what he was saying, but by how the pressure of the rope that had binded by arms together disappeared I guessed that he had wanted to unbind them. It was only then when I managed to stand completely straight and scan the room.

It was poorly decorated, that was the only thing I could notice at first glance. It had a few beds here and there, as well as chests and tables. _'A meeting room of some type for soldiers then'_ I thought. The air was cold and stagnated. Sharply contrasting the overheated air of the outside. If anything though, it was more natural here. The Dragonfire had made the outside seem hazy and confusing, plain strange. The door we had entered through was shut. I took a deep breath in, feeling as if I was waking up from a dream thanks to the cold air. I raised my arms, looking at the cuts of varying depth that the rope had left. I would be lucky if they didn't scar.

The rest of the furniture of the room laid on the floor or in a state of disarray. What must have been something aimed towards holding weapons was now lying on the floor, no weapons around it except an old-looking iron sword. The room had no windows, and instead was only lit by a few candles which only managed to get rid of some shadows and increase the rest. I took a few steps forwards and grabbed the sword.

He was standing behind me, standing in a proud manner that could only be described as dwarven besides his companion. It was only then that I noticed that he was holding a sword. An imperial one, from what it looked like. However his way of holding it was strange, as if he wasn't used to such a light sword and instead preferred a double handed one or at least to also have a shield. His companion, Balin, was holding another very similar one. It was then when I realised that I hadn't truly managed to get a look at the dwarf until now. As I had thought before he was tall for a dwarf, with clear blue eyes that were staring right at me. Lean could be a way to describe his physique, but he was far too muscular, or so it seemed, for the word to truly fit.

"We should advance and get out of here" Thorin, the dark haired dwarf, said then, as he started walking towards the only other door of the room.

I nodded, and followed him. The sooner I was out of here the better. I looked down at my sword, wondering if I would ever see again my old equipment.

'_Probably not'_ I thought. Once something was lost or sold things tended to never be seen again.


End file.
